The Tower
by kantarose
Summary: Harry has been taken by Voldemort and for four months the light side has searched for him in vain. Despair is beginning to mount for ever finding him, until Draco Malfoy returns home for the winter holidays to find his wards have changed. Kinda inspired b


Title: The Tower

Chapter: Prologue

Author: Kantarose

Pairing: HP/DM

Rating: M+ ish

Warnings: m/m, slight teeny weeny non-con,

Disclaimer: Sooo not belonging to me. Sure as hell aren't making any money for this either.

Summary: Harry has been taken by Voldemort and for four months the light side has searched for him in vain. Despair is beginning to mount for ever finding him, until Draco Malfoy returns home for the winter holidays to find his wards have changed. Kinda inspired by several different fairytales including Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty. AU after Book 5

: December ninth, Seventh Year :

"It's been four months Albus."

Albus Dumbledore sighed and closed his eyes. He stood at the window of his office staring out across the grounds of the school he had kept safe for close to fifty years. The December snow had fallen thick and heavy over the Scottish hills of Hogwarts and the lake had frozen over within the first week of snow. The Christmas holidays were upon them and the students would be going home on the train in the morning.

"You cannot continue on like this my friend." Minerva continued sadly from where she stood next to the high backed chair before his desk. She gripped the polished wood with fingers that were still strong and quick despite her age and pursed her thin lips. The office was dark except for the dying embers in the fireplace and the blue glow that the flame inside a crystal globe, resting on the desk, gave off. The only sounds that filled the room were the whistle of the wind around the tower and the whirling and clicking of several of the Headmasters instruments that adorned the shelves of the round office.

Fawkes was missing again. The bird had been disappearing more often and for longer intervals over the past several months, and the room felt even emptier without the phoenix's calming presence. Minerva felt the cold chill of the room but did not make an effort to cast a warming charm or relight the fire. She felt that to do so would be to intrude on the old mans grief, something she could not bring herself to do, despite how unhealthy for him it may be.

The Headmaster opened his eyes but did not answer her, continuing to look out through frosted window at the light snow swirling across the landscape. His gaze came to rest on the Quidditch Pitch and sorrow, the like which he had not felt since his late wife passed more than sixty years ago, threatened to overwhelm him once more. His fingers tightened their grip on the battered golden snitch in his hand and the wings fluttered wearily, like a dying man in his last throes before death.

"What would you have me do Minerva?" he finally asked quietly. His shoulders slumped forward and he felt the utter hopelessness threaten to drag him under into a pool of grief and despair.

He felt the woman move from the chair to stand beside him at the window. She did not fix her gaze outside however, but on her friend and leader. She pulled her cloak tighter around her body and exhaled in a breath that clouded the cold air in mist. "What you have always done. Carry on. Survive. Live to fight another day." She closed her eyes tightly before opening them and glancing over at the crystal orb glowing brightly and fiercely, amongst the parchments, ink, quills, and lemon drops that covered the desktop. "He lives Albus. As long as the light continues to burn we have hope. Harry is strong; he will get through this. But do you really believe he would allow you to wallow in this misery? That he would allow you to continue to neglect the school? The Order?" Albus felt her hand on his shoulder and stiffened at the contact. "You are helping no one but the Dark Lord if you continue to do nothing."

Albus jerked his head up and Minerva found herself tensing under his furious glare. "I cannot – I will not just leave Harry to Voldemort! I will not abandon him-"

... Again.

The word was left unsaid but both heard it none the less. Silence descended upon them and both stared at each other in stricken sorrow, all anger dissipated. The whiz and click of the many instruments around the room filled the void and Minerva sat carefully on the cushioned seat inside the window alcove. The fact that Harry Potter had been used and abused his entire life was one that those close to him steered clear of. Much of the using and abusing had been done by them after all, and they held no joy in recalling their actions. The boys innocence and happiness were things that had not been taken into account when deciding his future, his destiny, and Harry had slowly pulled away from everyone around him as he realised that no one there, was truly ever there for him. For the school, yes. For the war, yes. But for Harry? No. No, they had all lost sight of the child and instead only seen the Boy-Who-Lived. There had been no thought to his wellbeing, only his safety. Was not it better that he be safe and unhappy, than dead or captured? It had seemed a simple answer at the time but now Minerva was sure they had somehow steered wrong with Harry. Terribly wrong. And now it may be too late to right any wrong.

Minerva started as the man beside her slowly sat down next to her and watched his face in the blue glow of the flame burning brightly on the desk. Albus looked every one of his hundred and eight years at this moment. Dark shadows stood out under his normally merry eyes, and stress and worry were evident on his haggard face. The Headmaster appeared to be a man defeated. Harry's capture had stung the entire light side, but no one hurt more than the Headmaster of Hogwarts. In the immediate aftermath of the boy's abduction, Albus had been his normal self in a crisis. He had called the Order, furious with the situation, quickly establishing a search and rescue team. Death Eaters had been captured and interrogated, but no information regarding the capture of Harry Potter was gleaned from them. It seemed as though they had even less of a clue as to what had happened to the boy then the Order. The Dark sides dungeons and death camps had been found and raided, capturing more Death eaters and setting free captives, both muggle and wizard, but still no sign of Harry. And as the days passed into weeks and the weeks passed into months, the great and invincible Albus Dumbledore began to fold. The Order had long ago lost hope of finding the Boy-Who-Lived intact; surely the boy had been tortured into insanity by now? That he still lived was a sore topic for many. The more high profile prisoners rescued so far had been less than human; mind, body, and soul destroyed through ruthless torture. Gibbering messes of humanity. The sadism of it had affected hardened Aurors and Hitwizards, and so the thought of what the child who had brought down the Dark Lord had been exposed to after four months of captivity was a disturbing one. The boy would surely be better off dead by now?

Albus had refused to believe that Harry could be beyond help and continued to relentlessly hunt for the teenaged hero. The school was quickly put aside as was any other mission for the Order. All that mattered was finding Harry. And now it had come to this. Defeat. Voldemort had won, effectively breaking the ruler of the Light. There were no more leads to follow; they had used up every clue, every resource, and now it appears that they had run out of time. Harry was lost to them and thus the war was lost to them. Voldemort could not be bought down by any other than the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord and so the Order had lost any hope they had of emerging victorious from the war when Harry had been snatched from their midst.

"You must let him go Albus." Minerva whispered sadly. "There are other paths we can follow. There is still hope."

Albus shook his head brokenly. "There is no hope Minerva. None to be had. Not without Harry …"

Minerva understood that the old man was close to the child, loving him far more than was perhaps practical between a professor and a student, but Harry had always managed to get under a persons defences. He was easily loved and Minerva could not understand how his muggle family could possibly treat him as they had for sixteen years. His presence in the castle was sorely missed and Gryffindor Tower was a sombre place since his disappearance. But this desperate grief that clung to the Headmaster had not been expected; none had ever expected their Leader to give up.

She watched dejectedly as Albus opened his hand and the snitch struggled to life, wings twitching as it darted out of the old mans grasp, blue light glowing against gleaming gold.

: H J P :

Tell me what you think - kantarose


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